


the best part of my fridays

by StarlightDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blogging, Crack, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Online Romance, Writer Gabriel, Writing, Writing Prompter Sam, im not sorry, kind of, waria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightDragon/pseuds/StarlightDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel runs a popular fanfiction writing Tumblr blog which accepts prompts for smut ficlets every Friday. Sam is his best prompter, until the day when he stops sending in his ideas. Gabriel would do anything to find him so that they can write together again, but how can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the best part of my fridays

**Author's Note:**

> This is very, very, very much inspired by true events that I was lucky enough to witness. So I basically can't take any credit for any of this because all I did was change the names and give Gabriel a bit of an internal monologue. Even the keyboard smash is authentic and made by the person who played 'Sam'. I had so much fun with this idea, though, so to the _actual_ Sam and Gabriel: thankyou so much for letting me run with this.

Gabriel clicked on his Tumblr inbox button, scrolling down the list of prompts he saw within, looking for a familiar face. It wasn't like he was even expecting to find the person. Not anymore. Not when it had been months. It was more a force of habit - get to his computer on a Friday afternoon ready to write, click on the inbox, look for his anonymous messenger, then sigh heavily when yet again, they proved themself absent; at least from _his_ life.

Ever since his blog had started getting popular, Gabriel had invited his followers to submit him prompts in his inbox. He loved to write, but a lot of the time he found it difficult coming up with what specifically to write, to the point where random words and phrases with no coherent order just buzzed around in his head, and nothing actually got down on paper, so prompts helped him find some kind of direction - and people were more than happy to help out. Typically, the prompts seemed to focus on the relationship between two fictional characters in Gabriel's favorite show; two characters who Gabriel was sure would fall madly in love with each other and be the greatest couple in history  _if they could just be cast in a few more episodes together_ ,  _dammit_. Even more typically, the prompts featured the two characters having sex in ever more creative ways, including every kind of kink Gabriel had ever heard of and several very disturbing ones which he previously hadn't.

After a while he stopped responding to every prompt, but would simply pick and choose the ones that inspired him when he happened to be in a writing mood. And over time, he'd started to notice that there was this one particular messenger - who always kept himself anonymous, but was clearly the same person judging by the writing style - who always seemed to be first on the list of messages he was excited to reply to. Their prompts started off tame, far tamer than the things Gabriel would usually write, but something about the way they were phrased always seemed to grab Gabriel's attention and give him a hundred ideas of how to take the words and run with them and create something great. Gabriel didn't think much of himself in general, but on his good days he liked to think he was good at twisting words and making them do what he wanted, and this particular anon brought that out in him best of all.

And over time, the guy grew bolder, and soon he was unloading his filthiest sexual desires onto Gabriel within the 500 characters of a Tumblr ask, and that made Gabriel hot and bothered and tempted to take a short break from writing to deal with that, but it also made him curious. He wanted to know as much as possible about this person. He wished they'd come off anon so that he could stalk their blog to his heart's content, but since that didn't seem to be happening any time soon, he contented himself with letting his imagination run wild, pondering over the smallest details from the color of the person's eyes to what they usually ate for lunch.

It got to the point where Gabriel's inbox was being filled with so many messages full of these prompts  _(how did these people even find his blog?)_  that he had no way of keeping up without quitting his day job, so he decided to make it an event - every Friday night, he'd be online, guaranteed, just him and his inbox and his dirty mind, writing until he passed out from exhaustion coupled with a few glasses of wine. To make it more interesting for his followers  _(these people who cared about his life although why?)_ he decided to set up a livestream where they could see him write in real time, commenting, adding suggestions, watching his creative process. And to his great surprise, people actually did.

Which, of course, got him wondering whether his mystery anon was one of the people regularly watching. And he'd look down the list of names -  _Garth, Bela, Ruby, Kevin, Ellen, Metatro_ n (wait, why was a Transformer reading his porn?) - and he'd contemplate whether each one of them could possibly be the person. None of them seemed quite right, though. And maybe he'd built this person up in his head to be more than they were - but at the same time, he thought he could recognize their writing style when he saw it, and nobody in the chat seemed to talk quite the same way.

So, Gabriel resigned himself to the fact that he'd never know the stranger's identity, and accepted that all he'd ever be able to do was enjoy their prompts. And he was okay with that. Mostly.

Until one Friday, they stopped.

Gabriel stayed up late that night, even later than usual, refreshing the page every five seconds, looking for the anon's presence. He knew it didn't make sense, but this was the first Friday ever that there hadn't been at least one prompt in his box for the night. He expected his viewers to get annoyed that he was being so jumpy and couldn't settle to any writing, but to his surprise, comments in the chat showed him he wasn't the only one to be upset.

_**Meg Masters (9:31pm)** sooooo where's your smut!anon tonight?_

_**Charlie Bradbury (9.34pm)**  why aren't you doing smut!anon's prompts? they're always my faves!_

_**Fergus MacLeod (9:37pm)** *BANGS FISTS ON TABLE* WHERE IS SMUT!ANON_

Gabriel frowned at his computer screen, watching the messages pop up one after the other, at least one from each of his regulars, some of them sending virtual essays on how much they loved the smut!anon. And Gabriel thought he probably should have felt jealous, probably should have been concerned that people only watched his stream for this anon and not for him. But strangely - and yes, Gabriel surprised even himself with this - he wasn't offended, because he agreed. The smut anon had always been what made the nights the most worthwhile for him, so he supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch that other people would feel the same way.

Gabriel hoped that they were just sick or busy or away, but the next week, his smut!anon (as he had started calling them in his own mind, too, after popular demand from the chat) still didn't send anything. The week after that, still nothing. Notifications upon notifications and not one of them were what he wanted to see.

After a month had gone by, he was getting seriously worried. He knew it was ridiculous to feel this kind of concern over somebody he couldn't put a name or even a  _nickname_  to, but for some reason, Gabriel couldn't help it. In his own kind of fucked up way, Gabriel had come to care for this person. He credited them with the spark in his brain that caused the pulse of creativity to flow, and in his book, that was more than enough to make them worth something, and to make Gabriel desperately hope that nothing bad had happened to them. He knew there could be a perfectly innocent explanation, but still he worried. Still he ended every day with the vague wisp of a thought:  _"is my smut!anon doing okay?"_

Of course, he still got prompts, and plenty of them. Some of them were from people who were great and talented and should definitely write their own works if they didn't already, rather than passing them off to him. And he still enjoyed the writing - he wouldn't do it otherwise. And yet, there was always a voice in the back of his head reminding him of a time when he used to get those messages in his inbox and immediately a huge grin would spread over his face as his fingers tapped against the desk, itching to start writing even though it was hours before he was due to start.

~*~

When it happened, Gabriel didn't see it coming. How could he? It had been months without seeing his smut!anon, and though they still crossed his mind, by now it was mostly limited to Fridays, along with the occasional other stray thought when his mind happened to wander. But on this particular day, an innocuous Tuesday, he hadn't had any just recently, he was pulled into a group Skype conversation with some other fans of his pairing.

When he joined, a few people in there recognized him and had read his work. He smiled over their compliments, never tiring of them even though he knew that no matter how many he got, he'd never agree with them; and then somebody with the username  ** _sogetthis1993_**  brought up a ficlet he'd written the previous Friday.

Gabriel replied, interested to find out if this was somebody he'd also talked to in one of the livestreams.

_**Gabriel Novak (10.15pm)** So I take it you're a fan of my smut Fridays?_

_**sogetthis1993 (10.18pm)** I'm laughing right now because I think I'm pretty much the one who started that whole thing. I used to send you a lot of prompts, like, a LOT of prompts, and then you said it was all too crazy so you started Fridays. I stopped because I figured I was annoying you and my prompts weren't very good anyway and you had such a backlog anyway that you wouldn't even notice me leaving, and in fact you probably don't even have a clue what I'm talking about, but I just thought I'd share._

Gabriel's heart beat faster and he instinctively leaned into his screen as though doing so would help him get closer to his messenger.

He stared at the screen, his mouth falling open, and he was pretty sure he didn't blink or process anything for a solid minute. This random guy in a Skype chat - _he_ was the one who'd given Gabriel all those smiles, all those blushes (and God knows it was hard to make Gabriel blush), all those nights furiously typing lines and lines of text that just seemed to pour out of him in response to this guy's prompts?

Gabriel knew it technically wasn't a guarantee that it was him - this could be another anon who often sent him messages - but the coincidence was too great, and besides. It just felt like the person in a way that it hadn't when he'd considered anyone else.

_**Gabriel Novak (10.22pm)** I can't believe that was you! You were always the best part of my Fridays._

Gabriel felt so proud that he managed to keep himself under control, typing out his reply without screaming through the keyboard (despite his literal screams in real life that were probably waking his neighbors), keyboard smashing or making any typos.

_**sogetthis1993 (10.24pm)**...wait. Wait. You /remember/ me?_

_Remember_ him? Was this guy  _insane?_

_**Gabriel Novak (10.25pm)** OF COURSE I REMEMBER YOU YOU'RE MY SMUT ANON WHO I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR AND THINKING OF EVER SINCE YOU DISAPPEARED_

_**Gabriel Novak (10.26pm)**  -GLOMPS- OMGG I HAVE MISSED TOU SO FUCKING MJCH AND J THOUGHT J SCARED YOU AWAY.  
_

_**sogetthis1993 (10.27pm)**  ASKAJDKDJAHDKJFJAJSHDHDJDKA;;_

So much for 'under control'. Gabriel was freaking out, bouncing up and down in his seat as he watched the messages appear in front of him. This guy always seemed so intelligent in the messages he sent to Gabriel's blog, so put together, but now he had been reduced to keyboard smashing and exclamations of surprise. It was flattering, he supposed, to have someone so shocked that you knew them, and he didn't know how to communicate that he was just as shocked in return. He'd given up all hope of ever discovering the identity of the anonymous messenger, and he definitely hadn't been prepared to run into them totally out of context. On a Tuesday night, no less, the most unassuming of all nights.

_**sogetthis1993 (10.28pm)**  i cannot believe this i cannot deal you're famous and you're not supposed to know me_

_**sogetthis1993 (10.29pm)**_   _i will come back this friday with a smutty vengeance_

Gabriel jumped out of his seat and spun around the room, twirling himself around, cheering and whooping, and he was barely back in his seat before ' _ **sogetthis1993**  would like to add you as a Contact_' appeared on his screen.

He accepted the contact request, the the username **_sogetthis1993_**  disappeared, replaced with a name: **_Sam Winchester_**. 

"Sam Winchester," Gabriel murmured, trying out the feel of it in his mouth. It didn't sit right, somehow. It wasn't what he'd imagined. Sam Winchester sounded like a quiet, bookish guy, maybe a law student or something, not the kind of person with filthy thoughts of the type that he used to put into Gabriel's inbox on a regular basis. Than again, maybe that was why the guy kept himself anonymous.

He wasn't sure whether he should continue talking to him or not. Then again, Sam was the one who'd added him, which meant he clearly had some kind of interest in communication. So Gabriel allowed himself to quickly type out another message to him.

_**Gabriel Novak (10.35pm)** you made me so fucking happy sam. like this legit made my night. possibly my week._

_**Sam Winchester (10.36pm)**  no. no. no. you cannot remember me you CANNOT be excited about me stop_

_**Gabriel Novak (10.37pm)**  you are my smutty soulmate_

_**Sam Winchester (10.38pm)**  I REFUSE TO BELIEVE_

Gabriel shook his head at Sam through the computer screen, beaming, unable to see how Sam could possibly have thought that he wouldn't be remembered, that he wasn't the _literal reason_ Gabriel had become so popular in the first place.

Quickly, he logged onto his livestream account and typed out a quick message to the handful of people watching him do his everyday original writing (for some reason, Gabriel found he worked better when he had an audience).

_**Gabriel Novak (10.41pm)** I HAVE AN UPDATE. I HAVE DISCOVERED THE IDENTITY OF SMUT!ANON AND THEY WILL BE RETURNING TO MY ASKBOX ON FRIDAY_

The chat was usually pretty dead when he wasn't doing his smut Fridays, but within seconds, he had two responses.

_**Benny Lafitte (10.42pm)** I AM CANCELLING ALL MY PLANS FOR FRIDAY_

_**Adam Milligan (10.43pm)** NO. WAY. I FORGOT ABOUT THEM BUT NOW I AM FREAKING OUT I CAN'T WAIT_

Grinning, he immediately switched back over to his chat with Sam and sent another message.

_**Gabriel Novak (10.45pm)** i have told my livestream you are returning. two of them flipped their shit_

_**Sam Winchester (10.47pm)**  im just gonna devolve into a steady stream of oh my god for the next 15 mins dont m in d m e_

Gabriel wasn't sure what he should do next. There was one other part of the story that he hadn't mentioned - not to Sam or to anyone before now. And right now Sam seemed to have such a high opinion of him, and Gabriel wasn't used to that and didn't want to mess that up. But Gabriel had already made a fool of himself once by flailing over Sam, and in a way he thought the guy deserved to know how important he was so him, so he wrote:

_**Gabriel Novak (10.51pm)** DID YOU KNOW I WROTE A GOODBYE AND I MISS YOU NOTE TO YOU?!?_

He'd originally written it as a call to attention just in case his anon was still reading his blog, letting them know he was worried and to maybe get in touch even if they didn't want to write any more headcanons, just to let Gabriel know that they were safe and well.

But he'd decided not to publish it. There were a million other reasons the anon could have stopped sending messages, and in Gabriel's mind most of them related to the anon hating his writing or hating his blog or just plain hating him. On top of that, the letter was far more emotional than he wanted to share with the world, so he just kept it, and the knowledge that he'd even written it, to himself. He hadn't looked back on it, but he knew it was there, and some days that meant something.

_**Sam Winchester (10.54pm)**  ...really? You did that? I had NO IDEA you cared about me that much. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry - if I'd known, I'd have come back much sooner._

~*~

Even during Sam's hiatus, Gabriel had still looked forward to Fridays and the reaction he got from people on his writing - there was just something about seeing them exclaim in real time that was completely exhilarating - but he couldn't remember having this level of excitement for a livestream in months, or perhaps ever. He was tapping his foot on the floor, eating even more lollipops than he usually did, and he hadn't been able to sleep last night in anticipation of what his anon (who was no longer _technically_ an anon, but still) would come up with. And now it was finally time, and Gabriel was scared he wouldn't be able to maintain any sense of professionalism and would end up answering only Sam's prompts, ignoring everyone else's.

He attempted to reply to the early messages in chat with some kind of composure, but in actual fact he was breathing heavily, even his most calming writing music unable to get him under control. His vision blurred as he clicked on his inbox - this time not hopeful, but _sure_  - and he blinked rapidly, trying to focus his eyes on the screen. There were _too many_ , a backlog of prompts from weeks or months ago clogging up his inbox, and all he was looking for was the little grey icon with the sunglasses and the telltale writing of the smut anon.

He was starting to panic, scrolling down the list, because there were _plenty_  of anonymous messages but none of them were _right_ and shit, what if this guy had changed, what if Gabriel was remembering wrong, what if he just plain didn't recognize him? What if he'd got his entire livestream - and himself - excited for nothing?

But then, just as he was getting close to the top of the list where the most recent prompts appeared, he saw it. A prompt, just as wonderful as anything he'd ever received from Sam before, crammed into the character limit, overflowing with potential, long overdue and signed off completely unnecessarily with a  _Love, smut!anon._

Grinning to himself, because Sam clearly hadn't lost his touch at all, Gabriel started to write.

When he was done, taking a few breaks only to reply to the squeals over smut!anon in the livestream's chat, he sent a message to Sam.

_**Gabriel Novak (7.28pm)**  Just one prompt? I thought you had five or six things lined up to spam me with tonight._

Yeah, he was greedy, but it had been _months_ , and he was fucking  _starved_  for Sam's headcanons.

_**Sam Winchester (7.30pm)**  I... am actually working on something right now for you. It's a little different to usual. But I think (hope) it's going to /break/ you._

Gabriel would be lying if he said he wasn't disturbingly intrigued by that idea.

_**Gabriel Novak (7.32pm)** alright. hit me with it. it's you so it'll be great no matter what._

Then, he tried to turn his attention to another prompt - something about the two guys fucking in the back of a dance studio where all four walls were made of mirrors - and hoped that it wasn't blatantly obvious that he was too distracted by what Sam had planned to actually do it justice.

He was halfway through a second prompt (which somehow involved both a maid's outfit and enchiladas) when his Skype bleeped with another message from Sam.

_**Sam Winchester (8.14pm)** Sent. And it's ok if you don't want to, but I'd love it if you could turn on audio in the livestream so that I can hear your reaction._

Gabriel deliberated. He didn't generally like talking on the stream; he hated the way his voice sounded in recordings and was sure nobody would take him seriously once they heard him speak out loud. Especially considering he'd most likely be incoherent from whatever Sam wrote. But if Sam wanted him to...

_**Gabriel Novak (8.18pm)** definitely. just gotta finish this prompt first then i'll show yours some love._

It was even harder to work on his current project after that, but somehow he managed to force himself through to the end, and then, feeling like he'd just sank fifteen shots of espresso in a row, he grabbed his microphone and switched it on.

"Hi, guys," he began, awkwardly, his voice shaking. "And hi especially to my smut anon who I really hope is listening to this. They're here tonight - as you all know because I can't fucking stop going on about it - and I already wrote one of their prompts, but now they apparently have something special for me. And I'm gonna read it and react to it. Out loud. So if you're afraid of screaming, or your roommates are around, I'd suggest putting me on mute right now. Okay?"

When nobody in the chat yelled at him to stop talking or to get to his regular prompts, he gripped his mouse tight to steady his hand and opened up his notifications, screwing his eyes tight shut as he clicked on Sam's new prompt, no idea what to expect.

It was longer than anything Sam had ever sent before, and it was clear to Gabriel that Sam was going into more detail here, adding in some of his own writing style and flair and not just sticking to the basic points. In fact, there wasn't really much for Gabriel to fill in at all - the whole thing seemed to be complete just as it was.

It was amazingly well written, though, and Gabriel couldn't stop himself from letting out squeals and exclamations when he encountered a particularly good (or particularly hot) line. In fact, he didn't understand why Sam always got _him_ to fill his prompts when he was clearly more than capable of writing them himself, definitely more talented than Gabriel was.

He kept reading, and all of a sudden-

"Shit. Shit. Holy shit, I get it! Oh my God, oh my God, this is so good. Are you guys fucking reading this? Oh no, I cannot deal with this, I _cannot_ , it's so good, it's changing my life, _shit_ , why would you _do_  this to me-"

At that point Gabriel's vocabulary completely devolved into shrieks, sputters and muffled curses, and his voice rose to a pitch that could probably only be heard by dogs. And he understood what Sam had meant by 'a little different to usual'. Because, yes, the two characters were having sex (really great sex, if Gabriel's body's reaction was anything to go by) - but that wasn't what the fic was  _about._ And maybe in the first paragraph it seemed like it was, but over the next few, Gabriel had started to have doubts in his mind that that was what Sam was really writing about here. And then, suddenly, the moment that had caused Gabriel to spontaneously combust: one of the characters, in the heat of the moment, proposed to the other.

And that was the difference. It wasn't a smut fic of the kind that were all Gabriel ever wrote. It was a sweet, fluffy,  _feelings_  fic that just _happened_ to have smut within it and it gave Gabriel an opening, it inspired him to continue where the story was going because he _had_ that safety net, he had those topics to lead off with; the ones he knew he could write without completely messing them up. And that made him feel like he could try something new, branch out in his own repertoire by taking these small steps and going further with Sam's prompt - Sam's _opening_ , he supposed, the first part of a collaborative fic. Gabriel had barely finished reading before he started typing out his response; the other guy's reaction to the proposal. Gabriel had had sex before, many times, and he always thought that was why he was able to write it without a struggle and make it sound realistic. But he'd never been proposed to and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to be and yet somehow he could still imagine it, could still feel the character's emotions as though they were his own.

He posted it faster than he'd ever posted anything, feeling exhilarated.

He expected that to be all there was to the exchange - not that he was complaining, that was _more_ than enough - but in fact, it was only a few more minutes before another message popped up on Skype; not even long enough for Gabriel to get started on a new prompt of somebody else's.

_**Sam Winchester (9:04pm):** I replied to your reply. I hope you don't mind but I started their vows. If you don't want to continue it's fine, but I loved what you did with my idea even more than usual, if that's possible._

Gabriel headed over to his notifications and clicked on Sam's post. The tags on his reply were even more over the top than Gabriel's verbal reactions had been, full of all caps and misspelled words, but one specific phrase stuck out to Gabriel, not directed to the character but directed to _him_ : #MARRY ME.

Gabriel smirked to himself, heart pounding. Of course Sam wasn't being serious, of course it was just his way of telling Gabriel how much he'd enjoyed his addition - but at the same time, in a way they basically were getting married, weren't they? They were writing a wedding scene and exchanging vows - and sure, it wasn't legally binding and they were doing it pretending to be fictional characters with completely different experiences to their own, but it was still the closest thing Gabriel had ever done to confessing his love to anyone, and to him, that counted for something. He didn't know if there was any truth behind the tag on Sam's end (after all, they'd barely met, and Gabriel was sure he'd built this up in his mind to be so much more than it was, and that Sam didn't have anywhere near the same kind of feelings about him.

But still, he couldn't stop himself from adding more to the story, neglecting his other prompts in favor of Sam, typing faster than he could ever remember doing so in his life, his fingers skating over the keyboard as though they'd taken on a mind of their own, his ideas barely passing through his brain before they were there, in front of him, on the page. He'd never given a prompt multiple replies before, never accidentally gotten into a writing partnership like this, and this night presented so many firsts for him. But the idea had taken over all his thoughts, draining him of every emotion he had ever had over these two characters' relationship, every thought and headcanon he had never dared include in his writing before pouring out all at once, spilling messily over a page and yet landing in a way that he was happy with. He thought he might never write again after he was done, that this would be the pinnacle of his achievement, sucking the last words out of him and leaving him completely drained, and he thought that this would be a good legacy to leave with.

When he was finally done, he felt physically exhausted, slumping down at his keyboard, too tired to even work up his usual excitement at the screams he received in response.

~*~

The last message came in late at night, when Gabriel was just shutting down the livestream: a new notification lighting up his inbox. His instinct was to roll his eyes at the person who clearly thought they'd get to be the last prompt of the night by submitting so late, but then he actually read it, and his mouth dropped open.

_There isn't going to be any smut in this one. I just wanted to say that tonight meant a lot to me. I never really had confidence in my own writing, and I never thought I'd get to see people react to it like that. Least of all you, someone who I really admire, as you can probably tell by now. Anyway, I'm not trying to be forward here, but I'd really like it if we could talk some more. Maybe get to know each other? Just as us, not as the characters?_

It was sent from Sam's blog; his actual blog, no anonymous filter to hide behind. Gabriel took a deep breath, his fingers hovering as he figured out how to word this, and then he typed out his reply.

_Writing with you was everything I thought it would be, and I'm so happy I finally found out your identity. We were a guaranteed match. It means a lot to me that you came back and made this the best Friday I have ever had. You're not being too forward at all and I would love to get to know you better just as Sam and Gabriel - it doesn't even have to be a Friday (although Friday is traditionally date night...)_

For the first time since he'd started taking prompts, he hit the 'Answer privately' button.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to destroy me with sabriel headcanons **casandsip.tumblr.com**


End file.
